


Shaken, Not Stirred

by tobiyos



Series: Four Idiots Buying Mugs at the Dollar Store [2]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Metaverse (Persona 5), Established RyuGoro, Established Shukita, Explicit Sexual Content, First Dates, Fluff, Getting Together, Ice Skating, Multi, Polyamory, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:55:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27771841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tobiyos/pseuds/tobiyos
Summary: “Is it a date?” Yusuke asks him, probably for the fourth time.“Dearest,” Akira says sweetly, glancing at his text messages from Ryuji. “I do not know.”--It takes some time for ‘Ryuji and Goro’ and ‘Yusuke and Akira’ to become Ryuji, Goro, Yusuke, and Akira. But they make it work. They’ve certainly been through worse.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kitagawa Yusuke, Akechi Goro/Kitagawa Yusuke/Kurusu Akira/Sakamoto Ryuji, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Sakamoto Ryuji, Kitagawa Yusuke/Kurusu Akira, Kitagawa Yusuke/Sakamoto Ryuji, Kurusu Akira/Sakamoto Ryuji
Series: Four Idiots Buying Mugs at the Dollar Store [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2026837
Comments: 12
Kudos: 101





	Shaken, Not Stirred

**Author's Note:**

> AAAA Okay this is kind of rushed, and probably... could be better but I'm very happy it's done. I always say I'm going to write follow ups for my fics and I never do, but this was finally the push that made me need to write a follow up. Also! While technically a sequel to [Don't Shake the Detective Prince](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27646714) you could easily read this as a standalone fic. I just think this dynamic is fun :]
> 
> Persona Rarepair Week day 6: Winter Date

Akira thinks Ryuji and Goro have a lot of sex. Like a _lot_ of sex.

It had been kind of sweet when they first started dating, when Ryuji’s hand in Goro’s back pockets gave them a cute little newlywed energy. Akira absolutely delighted in paying back the grossed out noises Ryuji had rewarded every sweet kiss he’d given Yusuke, even as Goro laughs and brushes it off. Akira knows how they feel though, because once he’d broken Yusuke down into holding his hand and letting Akira kiss him in public, it had been extremely difficult to keep his hands to himself. His boyfriend is pretty and Akira likes to hold his hand in public, sue him.

But the sweet little pecks and hand holding kind of folds into a new kind of beast before long. The amount of times Akira has come home from working in Yusuke’s studio to his roommate’s bare ass on his couch has been too many times for one poor person to endure alone. They were apologetic the first few times, Goro flushing a pretty red and shimmying back into hastily tossed aside clothing, but as time goes on they seem to settle into some weird routine where as long as Akira comes home and doesn’t comment on it, Ryuji just keeps fucking Goro like it’s _nothing_. Akira is lucky when he crawls back into his room with no problems, even if he has to find headphones _very_ quickly, because the walls are thin enough that he can _still_ hear Goro gasping Ryuji’s name.

“Have you talked to them about it?” Yusuke asks, sprawled out sideways in a booth at Leblanc.

Akira runs a hand over his face and pours more sugar into the small container on the counter. “Literally how would I do that, Yusuke? ‘Oh, hey, I know you guys love each other or whatever but I kind of need you to stop having sex constantly. It’s bad for my mental health?’”

Yusuke flips a page in his sketchbook and starts on another drawing. “I meant talking about why it makes you feel as weird as it does, not asking them to stop.”

Oh. Well, that’s the other thing.

Akira kind of has a massive crush on both of them.

It’s fine, Yusuke does too, even if he’s more subdued about it. Akira likes to bring up the way Yusuke had just blinked at Ryuji the first time they met, before his face turned a similar color to a very ripe tomato. Goro had been a bit different, considering he’d had to listen to Akira complaining about Goro long before he met him, but enough movie nights and impromptu double dinner dates have worn him down. Now all he talks about it Goro’s eyes and his hair and the sweet shape of his face, and Akira should probably be more bothered by it than he is.

Yusuke though, doesn’t have to walk in on one of his crushes wrapping his hands around the other’s throat and fucking him within an inch of his life. Akira runs another hand over his face.

“I can’t do that,” he sighs.

“I know,” Yusuke says easily, pausing as he tilts his sketchbook more fully into the light. “Have you ever thought about what you’d look like with four eyes?”

Akira leans his elbows onto the counter. “Is that a joke about my glasses?”

“The glasses you don’t need?” Yusuke asks, with a nonplussed glance in his direction. “No, unfortunately, though I could certainly work with that.”

“…what if you ask them?” Akira says weakly.

Yusuke snorts and taps his pencil against his sketchbook a few times. “No, that’d be too easy. Plus,” he adds, looking up with a delighted little smile. “It’s fun to watch you fall apart over it.”

Akira groans into his arm.

He doesn’t even know when this weird little thing _started_. He used to fucking _hate_ Goro and his self-righteous little comments in the lectures they shared, his face plastered on every fucking talk show Sojiro keeps on in Leblanc. And Ryuji… well, Akira could have seen that one coming if he was completely honest. He fit in too well with him and Yusuke, like a puzzle piece that was never really missing but still came together to make the picture prettier. He’s just so cute with his big brown eyes and his stupid bleached hair, and Akira doesn’t know whether it’s a blessing or a curse that he’s even cuter snuggled into Goro’s side, cheeks tinged pink and face relaxed.

He can do this, he rationalizes, he can go home and tell his stupid, hot roommate that he needs to stop going down on his stupid hot boyfriend when he knows Akira is coming home. Or he can ask if Ryuji maybe wants to make out with him and go from there—

Okay, scratch both plans. He can’t do either of those.

“Can you at least come home with me?” Akira asks, walking around the edge of the counter to crawl into Yusuke’s booth. He puts his chin on where Yusuke has drawn his long legs up, the sketchbook he’s working out of rested against his thighs.

“I was planning on it,” Yusuke says evenly, reaching out to card his fingers through Akira’s soft curls. It makes him purr, leaning into the touch with a smile. “I’m still not asking them to stop though.”

“ _Yusuke_ ,” Akira whines.

Yusuke fluffs up some of his hair with his fingers, and smiles. “It’s because I love you.”

\--

Akira’s apartment is worryingly quiet when he gets home.

He didn’t see Ryuji’s bike in the parking lot before they climbed up the stairs, so Akira had kind of been excepting it, but when you’re used to having to metaphorically cover your ears and hum as you move throughout your own apartment, it’s a little jarring when the only sound that greets them when the door closes is Morgana meowing from the coffee table.

“Hi, Mona,” Akira says, stepping up to scratch his cat behind the ears. Morgana yowls, batting at Akira’s hand as he tries to pat him on the head a few times.

“Ryuji not home?” Yusuke asks from behind him.

Akira glances over his shoulder. “Guess not.”

“See,” Yusuke says, circling the couch to slip against Akira’s chest. He presses a fleeting kiss to his temple. “You worried for nothing.”

“I wouldn’t call it _worried_ ,” Akira grumbles, letting Yusuke slide his fingers under Akira’s jaw and tip his head back to kiss gently at his neck. He puts his hands on Yusuke’s waist gently, a low noise rumbling out of his chest when Yusuke scrapes teeth over the sensitive skin under his ear.

Yusuke is always so gentle with him, and Akira used to find it frustrating, used to lace his fingers through Yusuke’s hair and urge him _faster_ , _harder_ , but he likes it when Yusuke goes slow, when he presses hot kisses up his neck and strokes over his skin.

Yusuke hums. “Worry implies that you we’re avoiding it,” he says quietly. Yusuke nudges his jaw up with his nose and makes Akira swallow a whine. “You were looking forward to it a bit, weren’t you?” Akira grunts noncommittally and sighs when Yusuke steps closer, body pressed against Akira’s. “You shouldn’t lie,” Yusuke says against his skin.

“Maybe,” Akira whispers back, hands sliding under Yusuke’s shirt to grip gently at the soft skin of his sides. “Is that so bad?”

Yusuke’s laugh fans out against his collarbone, before he reenters Akira’s view, blue eyes dark. “Some people certainly say bringing your boyfriend to your apartment to see your attractive roommate having sex with his boyfriend _is_ rather strange.”

“Hm,” Akira hums, arms winding around Yusuke’s neck. “What do you think?”

Yusuke presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Oh, you don’t want to know what I think.”

Akira lets Yusuke press slow kisses to the relaxed slope of his mouth, sighing when his tongue pushes past the seam of his lips greedily. “They’re always fucking on the couch,” Akira says quietly, pulling back just so he can watch Yusuke’s pupils dilate in real time. He vaguely registers the sound of Morgana jumping down from the table.

“Which couch?” Yusuke asks, a hand pressed flat to Akira’s chest. He walks him one, two, steps backwards, until the backs of Akira’s calves brush the edge of the couch. He gasps when Yusuke _shoves_ , crawling between Akira’s legs to wind an arm under his thigh. “This couch?”

Akira tugs his lip between his teeth and nods, barely a second before Yusuke is kissing him again, hot and wet and urgent.

“Do you think they think about us?” Akira pants into his mouth, arms going to Yusuke’s shoulders. “Every time we pile in for movies on the same couch Goro gets _fucked_ on, do you think they wonder how we feel?”

Yusuke makes a sound against his mouth and pushes his hands up the front of Akira’s shirt, fingers trailing hot and insistent over Akira’s tense stomach. “I wonder how beautiful Goro looks down on his face,” Yusuke whispers into his skin, and Akira’s stomach rolls, his skin flaming hot. “Does Ryuji make him beg for it? Does he even have to?”

“Fuck,” Akira shudders, arms squeezing tighter when Yusuke’s fingers catch his nipples. “You’d want him on his knees, wouldn’t you?” he asks, grinding against Yusuke’s thigh. It makes Yusuke gasp quietly, the hands on Akira’s chest sliding lower again to drag his short nails over Akira’s flaming skin. “Goro on his knees or Ryuji pushed against your back.” Yusuke shudders against him. “He’s tiny but he’s strong, y’know. The other day he just picked me up and _moved_ me in the kitchen, without even asking.”

“I see the way he looks at you,” Yusuke rushes out, his breath on Akira’s cheek. He grinds his hips down again and pulls a groan from Akira, the pressure maddening and head swimmingly good but not _enough_. “When you’re looking he’s soft, but the second your back turns its like putting a meal in front of a starving man.”

Akira shivers, his skin too hot. “He pushes him down,” he says quietly, and laughs when Yusuke grabs him by the hair and manhandles him onto his back. “He fucks him _hard_ ,” Akira gasps, when Yusuke peels his shirt away from his torso. Then his mouth is back, just as hot as before, tongue sliding along Akira’s with the kind of familiarity only Yusuke brings him. It makes Akira hot and affectionate in turn, reaching up to thread his fingers through Yusuke’s hair hurriedly.

“I want to fuck you,” Yusuke says against his mouth.

“Please,” Akira begs. “Yes, yes, _please_ —”

They both jump when the door slams open, the sound of two hurried footsteps spilling into the entrance and then stopped as something _thumps_ against the door. Akira locks eyes with Yusuke.

“Fuck!” They hear what is very _clearly_ Goro gasp. There’s another thud, another high noise from Goro.

“You’re a fuckin’ tease.” Oh, that’s Ryuji this time, his voice low and gravelly.

“You like it, you dirty fucking perv— _ah!_ ” Goro gasps, his voice pitching high with a whine that makes Akira’s dick _throb_.

“Yeah?” Ryuji says breathlessly, another sound like he’s pushing Akechi back against the door _harder_. “Yeah, you think nobody noticed _you_ trying to give me a _hand job_ in the middle of a restaurant, ‘kechi? Think I couldn’t feel you press your dick against my back on the ride home?”

“Wanted you to fuck me in the _bathroom_ —” Goro gasps.

“And I said we could wait until we were _home,”_ Ryuji snaps, another noise pulled out of Goro. “Look at you, you’re making a fuckin’ mess all over yourself.”

Akira’s eyes widen where they’re held with Yusuke’s, and he can’t tell if he’s more panicked or turned on. “ _Yusuke_ ,” he whispers, breaking into a low whine when Yusuke grinds their hips together again.

“Shh,” Yusuke says, leaning down to bury his face in the side of Akira’s neck. Akira feels Yusuke’s hands skim down his arms, and then pull them up to pin them above his head. “Listen,” he whispers.

“ _Ryuji_ ,” Goro whines. “Please, please, I’m sorry, just fucking touch me I _need_ you to _touch me_ —”

Yusuke grinds his hips back when Ryuji growls. “Said you could get off, didn’t say I was gonna _touch_ you.” It makes Akira burn, makes his whole body shake as he thinks about Goro against their door, panting and overwhelmed.

Goro whines again and Akira has to bury a noise in Yusuke’s shoulder, hands twitching where they’re held above his hair. He wants to rut into Yusuke _hard_ but his boyfriend is just grinding his hips in slow, maddening circles, pressing wet, open mouthed kisses to the warm surface of his skin.

“Come on,” Ryuji almost whispers, voice low and possessive. “Just like that.”

Yusuke’s free hand ghosts along Akira’s side and down towards his hips, tugging gently at the waist of his pants. Akira has to tamper down on a gasp when Yusuke bites into his neck, especially when Ryuji says, almost too low for him to hear it, “Yeah? Yeah? You gonna fuckin’ come like that? Rubbing against my stomach like the desperate slut you are.”

“Fuckin— _ghnn!_ ” Akira’s hears Akira gasp, over the quiet sound of Yusuke sliding Akira’s pants down his hips to grip at his leaking dick. “’yuji, kiss me,” he gasps, “ _Fuck_ , harder, like that, yes, yes _yes_ —”

Yusuke covers Akira’s mouth in a kiss, and Akira is grateful, because he’s almost impossibly close to coming this fast, as Yusuke jerks his fist messily over Akira’s dick.

“ _Ryuji!_ ” Goro gasps, and Yusuke’s low growl rattles against Akira’s cheek. “ _Ryuji—!”_

“There you go,” Ryuji purrs. “ _Good_ boy.” and Akira tips his head back as he comes, hips jerking in Yusuke’s grip as he ruts against Akira’s thigh.

Goro, on the other hand, sounds like he’s fucking _drowning_ , fabric rustling loudly as he whines, another thump from the door. Akira wonders if their neighbors think he’s being _murdered_.

“You did so good,” Ryuji says, and Akira’ and Yusuke both freeze on the couch. “Still want me to fuck you?”

“Maybe,” Akira hears Goro respond breathlessly. “Don’t put me down.”

Yusuke keeps his face buried in Akira’s neck as Akira holds absolutely fucking still as Ryuji walks past the couch and turn the corner down the small hallway towards his bedroom, Akechi tucked up into his arms like he weighs fucking _nothing._

“Oh my god,” Akira sighs, when he hears Ryuji’s bedroom door close.

“I may have underestimated you,” Yusuke says into his neck. “I think if I had to come home to that every day I would have lost my mind.”

Akira pats him on the head. “You get used to it.” There’s another sound from Ryuji’s bedroom, a deep, impatient groan. “Or… actually, maybe you don’t.”

\--

Akira lets Yusuke fuck him on the couch, and they’re both way too quiet, because just over the sound of Yusuke’s cock inside of him, he can hear Goro whining prettily and Ryuji’s low voice, even if he can’t make out what they’re saying.

“We should talk to them,” Akira says afterwards, carding his fingers through Yusuke’s hair where his face is pressed against his chest. Yusuke makes a noise against his chest but doesn’t say anything, now clothed legs shifting where they’re tangled between Akira’s. He’s too long for the couch, and every time Akira looks up at where his feet are hanging over the side, he has to tamper down on a giggle.

“You talk to them,” Yusuke says into his chest. “It’s your roommate.”

“You wanna date them too,” Akira accuses, poking Yusuke in the cheek with a finger. Yusuke’s face crinkles up, turning so he can bury his face in Akira’s chest like a little kid.

“Later,” he says petulantly, and Akira rolls his eyes, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead.

“Akira?”

Akira glances up at the edge of the living room, and feels his face heat up so hot he feels like his brain is going to catch fire. Akechi is standing in the entrance to the hallway, blinking drowsy eyes and squinting at Akira like _he’s_ the one who needs glasses. He’s in one of Ryuji’s way too big t-shirts, neck and thighs littered with dark purple bruises, his hair in messy waves around his hair. “I didn’t know you guys were here,” he says hoarsely.

Akira tries very resolutely not to stare at the pale white of Goro’s legs, especially not when he lifts Ryuji’s shirt up to scratch at his stomach and reveals a pair of tight fitting black underwear. “Yeah, we got back a little while ago,” he says.

“Hm,” Akechi hums, moving through the living room towards the kitchen. “I kind of knocked Ryuji out. Do you want some coffee?”

“As long as it’s not Ryuji’s instant garbage, yeah.” He says, sliding a somehow now asleep Yusuke off of his chest so he can stand up. He grabs Yusuke’s shirt off of the table because he doesn’t feel like looking for his own and pads into his kitchen.

Goro snorts. “I don’t trust Ryuji within an inch of my coffee anymore so, no. Not Ryuji’s instant garbage.”

Akira laughs, following the little hickies at the back of his neck where Goro’s hair is parted when he turns around to dig through their cabinets. When Goro goes up on his toes, Akira guiltily gets a look at Goro’s small round ass peeking out from under his shirt, and he doesn’t quite realize he’s staring until Akechi turns around, and Akira’s eyes snap back up to his face, noticeably.

“W-when’d you learn how to make coffee?” Akira asks, avoiding the sly look on Goro’s face.

He watches as Goro moves sets out to crushing coffee beans, fiddling with the machine Sojiro bought Akira last year for Christmas. “Well, you date a barista,” he shrugs.

Akira tilts his head to the side. “Is that what he’s calling himself now?”

Goro turns and leans against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest, a small smile set onto his face. “I mean ‘overglorified busboy’ doesn’t quite roll off the tongue.”

Akira laughs quietly. “Yeah, neither does ‘mooch’ but we’ve got to call your loverboy something. Nice shirt by the way.”

“Oh, this old thing?” Akechi says, pulling the bottom of the shirt out with a smile. “It was all the rage last season.”

“Hm,” Akira says, stepping towards the coffee maker to actually hit the _start_ button. “I didn’t know boyfriend shirts went out of style.”

Akechi grins at his side, flushing as he realizes that Akira had to turn on the machine for him. “Well, perhaps you should keep up with the times, Akira. I’m staring to think Sakura-san is rubbing off on you too much.”

“You callin’ me an old man?” Akira asks, crowding Goro back against the counter before he can realize what he’s doing. “In my day that was _rude_ Goro.”

Goro’s smile is sharp and borderline flirtatious, eyes darting down to the thin line of Akira’s mouth. “I think I’ve heard something similar when I used to volunteer at a retirement home.”

Akira snickers. “Brat,” he says quietly.

Goro’s pupils seem to swell at the comment, his gaze snapping back to Akira’s. He’s close enough to kiss, face just a few inches away, and Akira kind of wants to see how far he can push him against the counter before Goro is whining like a _good boy_. “Don’t act like you don’t love it,” he says with a smile.

“We makin’ coffee?”

Akira and Goro both flinch away from each other like they’ve been burned, Akira pressing himself back against the isle in the kitchen. Ryuji rubs at his eye and glances at Akira, face brightening when he realizes who it is. “Hey, man!”

“Hey,” Akira laughs, hands gripping tight at the counter behind him. “Welcome back to the world of the living.”

Ryuji laughs, shuffling forward to press a kiss to the side of Goro’s jaw. “I did kinda pass out,” he admits, embarrassed. “I didn’t know you guys were home!”

Akira shrugs. “Didn’t feel like heading into the studio today. You guys had dinner?” He glances at Goro and catches him staring, eyes flitting away as a blush rises on his cheeks.

“Nah!” Ryuji says, wrapping an arm around Goro’s waist. “You can stay for dinner, right?”

Slowly, Goro nods. “I don’t have to go into the office tomorrow, so. Yes. Dinner sounds great.”

“Did someone say something about getting dinner?” Yusuke asks loudly from the living room.

“Weren’t you asleep?” Akira calls back, leaning so he can see the edge of the couch. Yusuke is leaning against the back of the cushions, hair mussed up and _still_ not wearing a shirt.

“Sleep is for the comfortable,” Yusuke says gravely. “Food is for the soul.”

“Dude,” Ryuji says, moving into the living room. He hops over the back of the couch. “That literally doesn’t make any sense.”

“You’ll understand one day, when you’ve matured.”

“We’re the same age!”

Akira catches Goro’s eye again, watching as he folds his arms over his chest. “Grab me four mugs?” he asks politely.

Akira nods. “Coming right up.”

\--

They eat shitty pizza on Ryuji and Akira’s couch, and Akira fights with Ryuji over the remote, and takes photos when Goro falls asleep in Yusuke’s lap.

Yeah, they probably need to talk about this.

\--

“Hey!” Akira calls from his bedroom. He watches as Ryuji backpedals into his doorway again, stopping to lean against the frame.

“’sup man?”

“Come hang out with me,” Akira says evenly.

Ryuji’s face breaks into a big grin, and Akira barely has a second to brace himself before Ryuji jumps straight into his bed, nearly managing to break both of Akira’s legs.

“What are we hangin’ out for?” Ryuji says excitedly, still bouncing on the mattress from the effects of his borderline cannonball.

“I just miss your knucklehead,” Akira says, leaning over to give Ryuji a noogie. “I feel like we’ve barely seen each other outside of work this week.”

Ryuji laughs, batting his hands away as Akira tries to wrestle him into a headlock. “Bro! We’ve both been super busy. You’ve got an exhibition coming up soon, right?”

“Yeah,” Akira sighs, settling instead for pulling Ryuji on top of him, smiling when Ryuji rests his cheek on Akira’s stomach. “I’ve got a couple of commissions I need to finish too. An artist’s life is struggle,” he says, with a dramatic head shake.

Ryuji laughs. “You love it though, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Akira says, “of course.”

“Actually,” Ryuji starts, nose nuzzling gently against one of Akira’s ribs. “Akechi ‘n I made plans to visit this huge park this weekend. They’ve had one of those temporary ice rinks set up since, like, September and they’re wrapping it up now that it’s almost spring. You and Yusuke should tag along!”

Akira tips his head to the side and rests a hand on the top of Ryuji’s head. “Are you sure that’s okay? We don’t want to like… encroach on your romantic boyfriend time.”

“Nah!” Ryuji laughs. He squeezes his arms around Akira’s sides. “We want you there… um… together.” He laughs and adds, almost bashfully, “We love you guys. We talk about you all the time.”

 _So do we,_ Akira says, flushing slightly, _probably in a very different context._ “I’ll text Yusuke. He’s got a thing about the cold, so I’m sure he’ll be excited. Thanks, man.”

“No problem,” Ryuji says, with a blinding smile. “Wanna play Call of Duty?”

“Oh for sure,” Akira says, sitting up. “I’m gonna kick your ass.”

\--

“Is it a date?” Yusuke asks him, probably for the fourth time.

“Dearest,” Akira says sweetly, glancing at his text messages from Ryuji. “I do not know.”

“Do you remember when Ryuji and Goro were first getting together and we kept telling Ryuji that it wasn’t that hard if he just _asked_ Goro if their outings were dates?”

“Yes,” Akira says, with gritted teeth. He texts Ryuji an emoji that does not convey his current sentiments.

“Can you please just ask them if this is a date?”

“Why don’t _you_ ask?” Akira says, when they climb out of the train thirty minutes later.

“I left my phone at your apartment,” Yusuke says happily, reaching down to thread their fingers together.

“You are so lucky I love you.”

“I am,” Yusuke says, leaning over to steal a quick kiss.

The walk from the train station to the large park is short, and Akira tucks his phone into his pocket when he sees Ryuji leaning against his bike, hands on Akechi’s hips as he stands between his legs, mouth turned down at something Ryuji is saying but eyes shining happily.

“Good afternoon,” Yusuke says once they enter earshot. Akechi glances up and meets Akira’s eyes, smiling when Ryuji tips his head backwards with a grin.

“Hey, guys! Sorry I couldn’t offer you a ride,” he pats the seat of his motorcycle like it’s the flank of a horse. “She’s a two-seater.”

“Maybe we can get two sidecars,” Akira says dryly. Akechi snorts.

The park is full, even on a Saturday, kids and teenagers running around as Ryuji leads them towards some huge temporary ice rink, set up in the middle of an open field.

“I used to come to this place all the time when I was a kid!” he says excitedly, bouncing on his toes as he leans over the divider. “My mom used to hold me by the hands when we were skating around.” His smile takes on a nostalgic edge, eyes going soft. “I should drag her back here one of these days,” he says quietly. Akechi presses a stealthy kiss to his cheek.

“Come on,” he says, with a head jerk in Yusuke’s direction. “Lets go get everybody skates.”

Akira watches with a strange sense of affection as Yusuke offers his arm, and Akechi takes it, leading him off towards the temporary booth set up to the side with a bored teenage girl handing out ice skates.

“How _is_ mama Sakamoto anyway?” Akira asks, leaning against Ryuji’s side. “I haven’t heard you talk about her lately.”

“She’s good!” Ryuji says, brightening a bit. “It’s just hard being away from her, y’know? Like I was a mama’s boy for so long and now it’s just—” he makes some vague gestures. “I don’t know. But hey!” he says, turning in Akira’s hold. “I’ve got you guys now. You’re like my family… er, actually scratch that. That’s kind of weird.”

“Considering you’re dating one of us?”

Ryuji scratches at his neck and turns pink. “Haha, yeah, that too.”

Akira’s about to ask what he means when Yusuke and Akechi reappear, holding four pairs of greying skates. “Don’t break your ankles,” Akechi says, handing a pair off to Akira. “These things are fucking death traps.”

\--

Yusuke, apparently, is _very good_ at ice skating.

Akira is leaning against the wall, trying desperately to catch his breath, when Akechi skates up to his side, his ears pink from the cold. “Are you all right?” he asks, voice amused.

“Just… gimmie a second,” Akira pants. They’ve barely been skating for half an hour and his calves are already _screaming,_ ankles shaking where they’re laced tight in his shoes. Yusuke had done that too, commenting on how the skates needed to be tight to avoid injury.

He glances out in the center of the rink where Yusuke is holding Ryuji by the hands, coaching him gently as Ryuji flails around like a fawn, legs spread _way_ too wide. “Did _you_ know Yusuke had a secret ice skating talent?” he asks, with a sideways glance at Akechi.

Akechi laughs, and reaches up to cover it with his hand. “Not exactly,” he chuckles. “Though Ryuji is doing about as well as I expected.”

“ _Dude_!” Akira hears Ryuji shout, very loudly, only to look back at them to Ryuji being dragged around as Yusuke skates in graceful circles.

He can’t help his laugh. “That’s your boyfriend,” he laughs.

“That’s my boyfriend,” Akechi says, half dreamily. Akira startles when he feels a gloved hand tug at his, Akechi peeling off of the wall to pull him further into the rink. “Come on,” he says with a smile. “Come skate with me.”

Akira goes, hand gripped in Akechi’s the whole way, letting himself be pulled in lazy circle after circle as Akechi makes scathing comments about the other people in the rink. They keep an eye out for Yusuke and Ryuji, who are still from the looks of it trying to get Ryuji steady on his feet. Akechi snickers when Ryuji falls flat on his ass and Yusuke just skates around him, head shaking in disapproval.

“I like this,” Akira says, gripping Akechi’s hand. Akechi turns to look at him and Akira pushes off of the wall, reaching out to take Akechi’s other hand. “Hanging out with you guys, like all at once. It’s fun. You’re good friends.”

Akechi tips his head to the side with a smile. “Akira,” he says, with a half-formed grin. He lets Akira pull him along some more, skating backwards against the crowd. “I cannot tell if you’re being cheeky or dense.”

“About what?” Akira laughs, feeling nerves flutter in his stomach.

Akechi blinks at him. “Oh my god, you’re serious.” He reaches out and puts his hands on Akira’s arms, holding him in place as they glide to a stop. “We _like_ you, dumbass.”

All brain activity in Akira Kurusu’s head stops abruptly. “Huh?” he says weakly.

Akechi takes his hands again with a laugh, circling around so he can pull Akira forwards this time. “Me and Ryuji. We like you guys. This is a date.”

“ _What_?” Akira whispers. Goro’s face slips from gentle amusement to alarmed confusion.

“Wait, you honestly didn’t pick that up? We thought—I mean I told him to tell you—at least it seemed like you guys _seemed_ to like us back.” His cheeks turn an embarrassed shade of red. “I mean, you did almost kiss me last week. And Yusuke likes to cuddle when we watch movies so—”

 _We want you there. Together_. Ryuji had said.

“Oh my god,” Akira groans. “I am actually stupid. Why did nobody tell me I’m an idiot?”

Akechi pats him on the shoulder. “I tried,” he offers.

They _like_ him? Him and Yusuke? At the same time? Akira has to be dreaming, because Akechi pulls him closer as he skates, arms going up to wrap around Akira’s neck. “I’m going to kiss you now, okay? Do tell me if you’d rather I didn’t.” Akira glances between his eyes and nods.

Akechi kisses him so, so gently, his lips chilly from the air and chapped from being in it for so long, but it’s _good_. It’s not heated, or rushed, and Akira has literally heard what Akechi sounds like when he _comes_ , but the sweet, innocent way Akechi kisses him literally makes his heart hurt. He fits his gloves over Akechi’s cheeks and kisses him again, and again, until he’s too afraid he might not be able to stop. He presses his forehead to Akechi’s instead and lets Akechi’s warm breath fan out over his mouth, his eyes still closed.

“To answer your question from earlier,” Akira says, smiling when Akechi’s eyes blink open in confusion. “Yes, I am that dense.”

Akechi kisses him again, just as soft as the first time.

“I told you we should ask them,” Yusuke says, and Akira pulls away from the kiss with a lopsided grin. Akechi keeps his hold on Akira’s arms as Ryuji skates forward wobbly, yelping as he nearly slams headfirst into Ryuji.

Akira opens his mouth to say something that ends up just coming out in a laugh when Ryuji wobbles precariously. “Ain’t f—woah!—ain’t funny man,” he grumbles, leaning over to grab the arm Yusuke offers. He pouts. “I’m literally an athlete. Why is this so hard?”

“You haven’t run track since you were in high school,” Goro deadpans, hands sliding down to grip Akira’s fingers again. “And I’m pretty sure figure skating uses different muscles than running, anyway.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ryuji pants, glancing up at Akira from Yusuke’s side. “’s it my turn to kiss Akira yet?” he asks.

Akira rolls his eyes and leans down with a laugh.

\--

Ryuji holds him against the door to their apartment, and Akira gets a strange sense of déjà vu.

“Why do I feel like I’ve been here before?” he gasps, hands threaded through the back of Ryuji’s hair as he kisses hot down the line of Akira’s neck.

He has to physically bite down on his lip when Ryuji hauls him up by the thighs, pressed against Ryuji’s chest as he squeezes at Akira’s ass. “You dreamin’ about me?” Ryuji asks, into the juncture of Akira’s neck. He bites down on a whine when Ryuji sinks his teeth in delicately.

“That is _not_ what Déjà vu means,” Goro says, still wound tight around Yusuke since they hit the top of the stairs. “Also, we can’t get into your apartment when the two people with keys are too busy sucking face to open the door.”

“Back pocket,” Ryuji growls, and nips at the fever hot skin of Akira’s neck. It makes Akira gasp, makes him throw his head back against the door and whine under his breath. He should be quiet, _they_ should be quiet, considering they’re standing outside of the apartment and literally any of their neighbors could stick their heads out of the door and snap, but Akira can’t help the groan that pushes past his lips, rocking against Ryuji’s body gently.

“How shameless,” Akira hears Yusuke say, right before Ryuji bites at a sensitive spot below his ear and all of his thoughts white out.

“Yeah? You wanna take your hand out of my shirt then, big guy?” Goro asks.

“Not particularly,” Yusuke hums.

Somehow, they manage to actually get inside, out of the cool air, and then it’s a rush for the bedroom. Akira isn’t even sure who’s room they’re bolting for until he lands face down in Ryuji’s mattress, groaning at the hands that fit over his hips and pull him back jerkily.

Goro makes a sound near at his side that goes straight to Akira’s dick, and his head swims, thoughts rushing against each other messily. There are hands on his back, on his ass, sliding up his shirt, and Akira isn’t even sure _who’s_ , he just groans into Ryuji’s comforter and takes it, turning his face sideways when someone presses against his back.

“Hi,” Ryuji says, directly into his ear.

“ _Mgnff_ ,” Akira says back.

Ryuji’s hands are sliding underneath his shirt and up over the soft expanse of Akira’s stomach, brushing gently against where his cock is hard and straining in his pants. “You look so good like this,” he whispers, with a kiss to the back of Akira’s too hot neck, and Akira feels his hips twitch, trying to grind down into the mattress. Ryuji is holding him by the hips though, keeping his back arched and his dick clean off of the bed.

“We had to listen to you two fuck for _weeks_ ,” Akira growls, trying to push back if he can’t push down. He meets Ryuji’s groan with his own when his erection presses insistently at Akira’s ass. “Do you know how often Yusuke got me off with your name on my lips?”

Akechi gasps, somewhere over his head, and Akira turns his head in the other direction to see Akechi propped up in Yusuke’s lap, squirming against him as Yusuke kisses his face and his neck, the long fingers Akira knows familiarly squeezing into the plush swell of Goro’s ass.

“ _Yusuke_ ,” Akechi pants and Akira buries his face back in the bed, overwhelmed.

“Goro kept fuckin—” Ryuji breaks off into another groan when Akira grinds his hips back again. “Kept talkin’ about how bad he wanted to watch me fuck you.” He presses Akira down into the mattress by the back of his neck. “Trying to have sex without one of your names coming up was like a damn Olympic sport.”

He flips Akira over with a hand on his waist, and suddenly Ryuji is _everywhere,_ covering his body from head to toe and kissing his neck, his collarbone, down his chest. Akira gasps and squirms, but there’s not much he can do but let Ryuji have his way with him, _especially_ not when Ryuji’s knuckles graze his dick when he reaches for Akira’s belt.

“Goro,” Yusuke says breathlessly above him, and Akira slides his eyes open, glancing up at where Goro is perched in Yusuke’s lap, one hand already twisting around Yusuke’s weeping cock. “Can you get on your knees for me, angel?”

Goro groans, and Akira watches as he prettily slides out of Yusuke’s lap, sinking to his knees. “Keep calling me that,” he says, and Akira knows the exact moment Goro finally gets his mouth on Yusuke’s cock, Yusuke moaning so loud it makes Akira feel dizzy.

“Akira,” Ryuji says, mouthing at Akira’s bare stomach. His eyelashes are long in the light of his bedroom, hands splayed over Akira’s thighs where they’re spread around Ryuji’s hips. “I want you so bad, _fuck_ , I don’t know whether to put you on your stomach or your back or your sides—”

“I want it,” Akira rushes out, reaching down to hold Ryuji by the sides of his face. “I want it, I want _you_.”

Ryuji shimmies back up his body kiss him again and Akira goes, and goes, swept into the heat of his mouth. Akira rocks against him and tries to pull Ryuji impossibly closer, until they’re one person, arching into the hands that Ryuji pushes down his sides.

Akira can feel Ryuji’s straining erection against his thigh, and it makes his fucking mouth water, because Ryuji is ticker than Yusuke is, more aggressive in the way he pulls Akira’s neck tight by a hand in the back of his hair. And Akira just swallows it up, whining and rocking into his grip as Ryuji is rough with him. “I wa— _ah!_ I want you to fuck me, Ryuji, fuckin’ break me,”

“Shit,” Ryuji says into his skin. He leans away and presses a hand flat to Akira’s chest, hair falling into his eyes where it’s damp with sweat. “Please, please tell me you have lube in your room because I fuckin’ used mine—”

“Top drawer,” Akira pants. “Right of my bed.”

Ryuji presses a sweet kiss to the side of his mouth and peels out of the room at breakneck speed. He laughs when he hears a dull thump and a _Sorry, Mona!_ come from the hallway.

Akira tilts his head to the side and gets a full view of Goro knelt between Yusuke’s legs, the long strands of his light hair clenched between Yusuke’s fingers as he chokes himself on his cock. “Yusuke,” Akira purrs, leaning over to pull Yusuke down by the back of the neck. Yusuke’s pupils are huge and dark and _hungry_ , and Akira kisses him slow, just the way he likes, smiling as Yusuke groans into his mouth when Akechi slurps and moans around his dick.

“He wants to see you cry,” Akira says, pulling away and tilting his head down to Akechi on the floor. Yusuke is still panting against his mouth, spine probably stretched uncomfortably with the way he’s leaning down, but he seems no worse for wear, sighing Goro’s name when Goro and Akira lock eyes. Akira’s hand curls around the nape of Yusuke’s neck with a smile. “He likes it when you’re ruined.”

Goro’s eyes roll back with another moan, and Akira can see him working valiantly to cut off his air supply with Yusuke’s cock in his throat, and Akira reaches down gently to fist over his own weeping cock.

“Lube!” Ryuji announces triumphantly, sliding back through the doorway. Akira laughs as he covers Akira’s body with his again, kissing his chest and his collarbone. “Put your ass up,” he says, with a slap to the outside of Akira’s thigh.

“Yes, sir,” Akira says, rolling onto his stomach and pushing his ass up in the air, waiting breathlessly for Ryuji to touch him.

“Wow,” Ryuji says quietly, and Akira glances over his shoulder, confused.

“What?”

Ryuji blinks, twice, and then presses his thumb between Akira’s cheeks to swipe gently over his hole. “You’re just really fuckin’ pretty. Also, Goro does not do what I ask him in bed.”

There’s a wet sound like Goro sliding off of Yusuke’s dick, and a hoarse scoff. “You like me bratty,” Goro says lightly.

“Mm,” Ryuji hums, and Akira digs his fingers into the blankets and rocks his hips back. “I like Akira compliant too.”

Akira isn’t expecting it when warm air ghosts over his hole, and he’s barely prepared when Ryuji licks down from his spine to his ass, lips soft and plush where he kisses at Akira’s entrance. It makes him gasp, and jolt forward, arms shaking where Akira is desperately holding himself up.

“ _Ryuji_ ,” he pants, trying to rock back into the way Ryuji is licking flat across his ass, before he feels Ryuji’s tongue catch and dip inside of his rim, and Akira nearly fucking sobs.

“What the fuck?” he gasps, like he’s drowning. “Why are you so good at this?”

Akira feels Ryuji’s pleased little laugh up his goddamn _spine_ and it makes him bury his face into the mattress and try to control the heat blooming inside of him quickly.

“Goro,” Yusuke says distantly, voice breathless and wrecked. “You’re gorgeous, gorgeous, _fuck_.”

“I want you,” he hears Goro gasp, bracketed by a desperate sound from Yusuke. “ _Yes_ , pull my hair like that _fuck god,_ Yusuke—fucking wreck me, _own_ me.”

Akira’s stomach drops when he feels a finger nudge in beside Ryuji’s tongue in his ass, stretching him open without making him feel _full_. Akira whines and drools into the bedsheet and feels Ryuji’s spit drip out of his ass, and it’s probably the top ten hottest things that’s ever happened to him, even when he’s been dating Yusuke for a _year_.

He jumps when something hits the bed at his side, and glances to where Goro is spread out breathlessly on his back, hair fanned around him on Ryuji’s dark sheets. He’s about to say something about it, some half joke that dies on his tongue when Ryuji fucks another finger inside of him, and then a _third_ , and Akira’s is messy and dripping across Ryuji’s tongue and he shakes apart on the sheets. He’s so fucking hard it’s painful, cock bobbing between his legs as Ryuji fucks him with his fingers and his tongue, and he nearly bites his lip off when Ryuji’s fingers curl harshly into his prostate.

“Yeah,” Ryuji gasps, his tongue moving from Akira’s ass up to the base of his spine, and then towards the divots above his ass. “You sound so good for me, Akira.”

“I’m gonna fuckin’ come, Ryuji, make me come please, please,” Akira babbles, moaning so high it breaks off into a rough whine as Ryuji just keeps fucking into his prostate, fingers ruthless and precise. Akira is just there, even without Ryuji touching his cock, he just needs, needs _more_ —

“Nggg— _fuck_!” Goro shouts at his side, and Akira glances over to see him white knuckling the sheets, lip drawn between his teeth. “S-slow. _Yes,_ Yusuke open me up on your _fucking_ cock like that, do it, fuck me, _fuck me_ —”

Akira groans. “ _Fuck,_ Goro you’ve got a mouth on you.”

“That’s not as bad as it gets,” Ryuji says, fingers slipping from Akira’s hole. Akira whines, and complains, shifting on his knees, but it’s not for long, not until Ryuji flips him back onto his back and presses the head of his cock inside of Akira like it’s easy.

“ _Fuck_!” Akira shouts, legs scrambling at Ryuji’s comforter. “You can’t keep— _ngh_! You can’t keep flipping me o-over like a, _hah_ , like a rotisserie chicken.”

He vaguely hears Goro’s laugh that breaks into a moan, and Akira bats around on the comforter to find Goro’s hand, lacing their fingers together between them.

Ryuji pushes his leg back by his thigh and Akira thanks Ann mentally for all of the yoga classes she’s made him take with her, because Ryuji folds him back and feeds him his cock inch by agonizing inch, bottoming out with a groan. “Goddamn, you’re flexible.”

He feels Goro pull on his hand as Goro shouts, something incoherent that sounds like it could be Yusuke’s name. Akira shakes as Ryuji starts to fuck him, hips pistoning in and out so hard Akira is sliding across his bed with every snap of his hips, every hard grip of Ryuji’s hands on his hips.

“ _Harder,_ ” Akira gasps, just to be a shithead, so Ryuji will hold his hips tighter and leave bruises in the shapes of his hands.

“You’re going so _slow_ ,” Goro sobs, face turned towards Akira and mouth shut blissfully. Akira can see the shine of tears tracking down his face, his skin red and flushed. “Why does it _feel_ so good, Yusuke?”

Akira is so close, so, so deliciously close, and Ryuji keeps going harder, and Akira is whining, hiccupping, throwing his head back and gasping, “I’m gonna come, Ryuji, _fuck_ j-just give me a little more a little—”

“You’re being so good for me, Akira,” Ryuji rasps, one of his hands travelling up Akira’s stomach to rest just at the base of his neck. “You’re _such_ a good boy.”

Akira comes without a hand even fucking _near_ his cock, dick jerking and spilling messily onto his stomach as Ryuji just fucks him into oversensitivity, plowing Akira boneless into the bed as he grasps at Goro’s hand.

“ _God_ , you’re tight,” Ryuji wheezes, hips falling out of pattern as he chases his own orgasm in Akira’s shaking, oversensitive body. “You like it when I tell you you’re good for me? That you’re fucking perfect?”

“Ryuji,” Akira hiccups, blinking his eyes open blearily. “Come inside me,” he whispers, voice horse and fucked out. Ryuji leans down and buries his face in Akira’s shoulder with a growl, just before Akira feels his cock pulse and his insides go hot and full.

It would be mind numbing if Goro wasn’t still gripping his hand like a vice, moaning like a pornstar and _begging_ Yusuke to fuck him, ruin him, fill him from the inside out.

“Can you come for me, Goro?” Yusuke asks sweetly, and Goro whines, hand nearly crushing Akira’s fingers as he watches Goro’s back bow as he comes with a shout, head shaking back and forth as he takes long, shaky breaths. Yusuke pulls out of him and strokes his own cock until he comes onto Goro’s stomach with a groan, leaning forward to catch Goro’s mouth in a kiss.

Akira feels like there should be some part of him more upset with the way his boyfriend jus easily kisses someone else, but Goro doesn’t let go of his hand, and Akira doesn’t think he would mind even if he did.

Akira uses his free hand to shove his fingers through some of the hair at the back of Ryuji’s hand, laughing when Ryuji purrs against him contentedly. “I think I died,” he says into Akira’s sweaty skin.

“Preaching to the chorus, Ryu.” Akira turning his head again so he can watch Akechi attempt to take a few, shaky breaths. “Is he always like this?”

Akechi sigh as Yusuke kisses sweetly across his neck. “Usually, yeah,” he breathes, hand coming up to pet the back of Yusuke’s neck. “Fucking Ryuji is better endurance training than literally every routine I have ever tried to keep up at the gym.”

“Jesus christ,” Akira says into Ryuji’s hair.

“Yusuke,” Ryuji mumbles into Akira’s skin. “When’s it my turn?”

“For what?” Yusuke asks, head lifting from Goro’s skin.

“Want your ass next,” He sighs.

Akira frowns up at the ceiling. “It’s only been like two minutes—”

“Why not now?” Yusuke says, infuriatingly calm. Akira’s exhausted groan is met by Goro’s.

“Oh my god,” they sigh.

\--

“Your bed is too small,” Goro complains, half plastered over Akira, who’s half on Ryuji, who’s half on Yusuke.

“Sue me for not knowing I’d need to house four grown ass dudes in my bed at one time,” Ryuji groans, still squirming to get comfortable.

“Yusuke has a queen-sized bed,” Akira says, sighing as Goro tucks his face into Akira’s neck. He winds his arm around him a bit tighter, just to make sure he doesn’t actually slip off of Ryuji’s mattress.

“The hell d’you get a queen for?” Ryuji mutters.

“I tend to do some light sketching in my bed. Some of my canvases are rather large.” Yusuke says pleasantly.

“Is it covered in paint?” Goro asks dryly.

“It is,” Yusuke and Akira respond.

Goro sighs. “Jesus Christ.”

\--

“ _So… four?_ ” Ann says over the phone, propped against the coffee maker and set to speaker.

“Technically three,” Goro chirps, reaching over to dig his spoon in Akira’s open tub of ice cream. “Akira can’t be his own boyfriend.”

Akira tries and fails to bat his hand away. “You don’t even _like_ cookies and cream,” he hisses.

“ _Wow_ ,” Ann whistles. “ _I could barely land the one girlfriend._ ”

“We had to buy a new bed, so, I’m not entirely sure it’s worth it,” Goro comments, reaching over for yet another spoonful of ice cream. Akira genuinely doesn’t know where Goro puts it all, considering how light he is.

“And a frame,” Akira grumbles. “Yusuke’s old one creaked.”

“ _You guys are a bunch of U-Haul lesbians. How long have you been dating again_?”

“Two months?” Akira asks, with a glance in Goro’s direction. He gets a shrug in response. “Ryuji usually knows. But, I mean, we’d been separate couples for a while, so.”

“ _I’m praying for you buddy._ ”

“Thank you, priestess Ann,” Akira snorts, rolling his eyes. He leans over to the coffee machine to pick his phone up off of the top. “Go flaunt your religious trauma somewhere else.”

“ _Goodnight, lover boy._ ”

“Night, kitty cat,” Akira trills, and leans over to bat Goro’s hand away from his ice cream again.

\--

It’s a lot, keeping up with four ( _Three,_ Akira’s inner Goro corrects) boyfriends. It’s a little awkward there for a while, just because they’re so unsure of which boundaries extend into which new relationships, whose allowed to hang out with _who_ when. It takes some time for ‘Ryuji and Goro’ and ‘Yusuke and Akira’ to become Ryuji, Goro, Yusuke, and Akira. But they make it work. They’ve been through worse.

The biggest upside, though, is that Akira’s probability of coming home to a pretty boy goes up exponentially.

Also, bonus perk, Akechi and Ryuji don’t stop having a ton of sex, Akira just gets to stop ignoring them when they do.

“Don’t you have any shame?” Yusuke asks, stepping through the doorway right as Akira throws his head back and moans.

“Not particularly,” Ryuji sighs, hand splayed against the small of Goro’s back where he’s pushing Goro up inside of Akira.

“Not since high school,” Goro groans.

“Shut up,” Akira wheezes. He throws his head over the back of the couch with a grin. “Come fuck your boyfriends.”

**Author's Note:**

> Will this be my last work in this series? Probably not!
> 
> I know it's short and kinda superficial but like... I just wanted to write something fun y'know! It's been a weird couple of weeks. If you wanna come say hi or like get updates when I have bad ideas for fics I'm on [twitter](https://twitter.com/tobi_yos)! I do talk about persona a lot
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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